


Flour, Water, Salt, Yeast

by The_Cards_Youre_Delta



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Bartender!Paula, Basically they all work together, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut?, Fluff and Angst, HeadChef!Murdoc, Humor, I wrote this bc I miss working in a restaurant, Lesbian Paula, M/M, Manager!Russel, PastryChef/Baker!2D, Slow Burn, SousChef!Ace, Stop Portraying Paula As A Villain 2k19, lots of romantic food imagery, no there will not be food porn, not betaread, still haven't named the restaurant lmao, tags will update as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-16 03:20:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21264218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Cards_Youre_Delta/pseuds/The_Cards_Youre_Delta
Summary: He sighed. “Alright. You win, I’ll go in for an interview.” He owed it to her to at least try. Besides, he didn’t have a snowballs chance in hell of actually getting the job, so what was the harm?





	Flour, Water, Salt, Yeast

**Author's Note:**

  * For [supposed2bfunny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/supposed2bfunny/gifts).

“Come on, I’d be perfect for you!” Paula insisted, the excitement she’d begun their conversation with now rapidly turning into exasperation. “You’d finally be able to use your degree, you went to culinary school for fucks sake!”

“I use my degree at my job all the time!” Stuart argued through a mouth of cereal.

Paula huffed and rolled her eyes. “You’re a barista and sometimes you make muffins. That hardly counts.”

Stuart had just about enough of Paula’s new job. Sure, the extra money was nice, She’d been slowly but steadily replacing their shoddy Ikea furniture with every paycheck. And he appreciated that. What he didn’t appreciate was that her newfound expertise in the food industry seemed to make her feel as if it was her personal duty to push him forward in his career. Sure, he wasn’t the highest achieving bloke out there, and sure, rooming with his ex girlfriend because his low-paying (but also low stress) job didn’t leave him any better options may not be the life he’d dreamed of in culinary school, but he was fine with it! He didn’t need his entire life to revolve around some posh restaurant. 

The thing was that he wasn’t in any position to argue. After all, it was out of charity that Paula roomed with him at all- she could afford a place of her own at this point, and even if she couldn’t she could easily move in with her girlfriend. She’d supported his dreams all through their relationship, and stood by him as a loyal friend even after their inevitable breakup. He couldn’t help but feel as if he was a disappointment, for all the effort and support he received from both Paula and his family, he hadn’t accomplished much. 

He sighed. “Alright. You win, I’ll go in for an interview.” He owed it to her to at least try. Besides, he didn’t have a snowballs chance in hell of actually getting the job, so what was the harm?

The next day Paula took him to work with her, an hour before his interview was supposed to start. She’d said something about wanting to show him around the place and introduce him to people, but he hadn’t been listening, already planning how he was going to spend the evening while she was at work and he had been told that he wasn’t getting the job. He smiled distractedly as she showed him around the dining room, waitstaff and bartenders that were rushing about in white button up shirts, setting tables and stocking the bar for dinner service. He shook hands and nodded as he was introduced to nearly a dozen people who’s names he had no chance or intention of remembering.

She explained the hierarchy of staff, Stuart nodding along absently. “Russ is the owner and manager, though he mostly handles front of house issues- total sweetheart. Murdoc’s our head chef. He’s a bit of a cunt but we’ve got Michelin stars for a reason, eh? Ace is our Sous Chef, ‘Doc’s right hand man. He’s nice but don’t get stuck in a conversation with him because he’ll go on for hours if you let him,”

A girl- teenage, no more than 16 at a glance- walked out through the swinging kitchen floor. She was wearing a chef’s coat and checkered pants, a black apron over them. Her hair was up in a ponytail and there was a thin sheen of sweat on her face, her expression was serious but brightened when she saw the pair.

“Just who I was looking for!” She spoke with a light Japanese accent. “Ace needs you to go over the wine pairings for tonight’s menu.”

Paula turned to him, gesturing to the girl “This is Noodle, she’s an apprentice, technically. Really she could be a Saucier, easy- those boys learn more from her than she does from them.”

Noodle laughed, and shook her head. “You flatter me. And who’s this?” She asked, now looking at Stu.

“This is my friend Stuart, he’s interviewing for pastry chef-I thought i’d show ‘im around.

“Oh, well good luck then. Pleased to meet you.” She said with polite dryness, as if she could tell from the sight of him that this would be the first and last time he set foot in their domain.

“Yeah, you too.” He mumbled.

“Well, we still have some time left- How’d you like to see the kitchen?” Without waiting Paula turned away from him and walked into the kitchen without awaiting his response, Noodle urging him forward.

They abandoned him as soon as they crossed the threshold. Paula crossing the kitchen to speak with the Sous Chef- Some greasy looking bloke in his late 20’s with a large nose that would’ve dominated his face if it weren’t for his sly smile and animated manor of speaking. Noodle was beckoned over by a tall blonde woman, speaking with her for a minute before disappearing out the back door, presumably sent on some errand.

He quickly stepped to the side as a man holding a large, heavy baking tray full of some intricately layered and rolled meat dish made his way through towards the ovens, narrowly avoiding a collision. It felt as if no matter where he stood he’d be in someones way, all around him uniformed chefs in coats and checks buzzed around the kitchen preparing for the night’s service. Copper pans banged against the iron stovetop. A knife struck rhythmically against a cutting board as vegetables were chopped at lightning speed. One cook shouted to another who hurriedly rushed off to adjust the temperature of an oven. Stuart jumped at a clatter of pans and plates against the deep well of the dish sink, it sounded as if something had broken but no one reacted as the ringing sound of pressurized water against aluminum rang through the kitchen. Someone else whisked a sauce feverously, the metal-on-metal screech adding to the cacophony of utensils and voices.

A man who must have been Murdoc stood in the midst of the storm. His hair must’ve been long, it was pulled back with a black bandana, a few sweat soaked strands falling loose onto his forehead. He wore the same white chef’s coat as the other staff, its sleeves rolled up exposing a large inky black octopus tattooed on his forearm, though instead of checks his trousers were black. His rugged futures were a serene mask of concentration despite the chaos surrounding him, gripping an enormous wok with one hand and effortlessly flipping its contents into the air, unbothered by the flames flaring up with each stroke. Stuart was mesmerized.

The chef glanced up and met his gaze, his dark eyes intense, though before 2D could process the embarrassment of being caught staring Paula had returned to his side, grabbing onto his sleeve and-much to his relief-pulling him out of the kitchen.

“What’d you think?” He didn’t understand what she meant, but apparently his silence was answer enough and she continued. “It’s a lot, I know” The kitchen. She was talking about the kitchen. “But don’t worry, you’ll be doing most of your work in the mornings and have this place will all to your self.”

“…good?” She snorted at him.

“If you get the job anyway. C’mon, last stop I promise.”

Going from the chaos of the kitchen to the quiet of the back office is an immense relief. Stuart took a deep breath and settled into the cracked upholstery of the chair he was offered. Paula left him alone and went to get the manager. Stuart twiddled his thumbs, suddenly feeling nervous about the interview despite not wanting the job in the first place. Should he have brought a resume?

“Stuart!” 2D jumped in his seat and the man, large with dark skin, gentle features, and a bald head- the manager, probably- chuckled. “Did I startle you?” 

“A bit, yeah.” He smiled sheepishly and shook the man’s hand. “You must be Russel.”

“You can call me Russ.” Russel smiled back warmly and took a seat in a squeaky swivel chair behind the desk, clasping his large hands on desk and leaning forward.

“Well, Paula did you the liberty of handing in your resume last week.” Stuart nodded as if this wasn’t new information to him. “And I must say, I’m impressed.”

“Thanks.”

“Only thing is,” Russ began, “nearly all of your credentials listed are educational. Sure, you’ve apprenticed at top culinary schools, but there’s next to no in-field experience on here. I hoped you’d be able to tell me a little about why that is.”

Stuart scratched the back of his head. “Well… I dunno really. I s’pose I got a bit intimidated, going into the field. Bit of a failed launch I guess.”

Russel seemed to let this roll over for a moment. “I’ll be honest with you. We haven’t gotten as many applications as I’d hoped. Our head chef- Murdoc- its supposed to be his job to scout out talent, but he hasn’t advertised the position like he was supposed to. He’s a complete control freak when it comes to his food and his kitchen. And I appreciate it. Most of the time. He takes his position very seriously and well, he likes the team as it is and doesn’t want to add anything else. Y’know what they say about too many cooks.”

He nodded, feeling very relieved that this whole thing was just a polite formality and soon he’d be told that they just weren’t looking for a baker or pastry chef any time soon and he could go on his merry way.

“So you’ll understand if he’s a hard ass during your working interview next week.’

“Pardon?”  
“Your working interview? Y’know, you bake some things and we- mostly Murdoc, it’s his kitchen- try it out and see if you’re up to the job.”

“Right.”

“Don’t take it as an insult to your credentials, but in this business you don’t know someone’s worth until you’ve tried their food. Shit, I’ve seen chefs outta Le Cordon Bleu serve complete trash. It’s a precaution.”

Stuart had so many ways out. He could come out and say the truth- that he hadn’t wanted the job in the first place. He could act as if the work environment seemed too hostile and say that he didn’t want to walk into a staff where he’d be unwelcome. For some reason he didn’t.

Instead, he just nodded, cursing himself mentally as he said “Of course.”

Russel smiled brightly. “Great! We’ll see you next Wednesday, noon. I look forward to having you on board. Hopefully.” He added with a wink.

*****

A Baguette.

He’d spent four years in culinary school. Longer, if you counted his apprenticeships. He’d made croquembouches three feet tall, perfect soufflés, Beef Wellington that his instructor had called extraordinary. And now, he was sweating at the thought of baking a simple fucking baguette. Embarrassing was an understatement. 

Stuart took a deep breath and reminded himself of his training. He’d done this before. Many times. He would make a beautiful fucking baguette because he was a qualified and competent pastry chef and this was child’s play to him. It did nothing to still the tremble in his hands, but he worked through it anyway, going through motions he’d practiced hundreds of times before.

The dough came together as it should, glossy and elastic after gentle kneading. It rose the way it should, puffing up under a tea towel like a marshmallow. Of course it did. Stuart was a professional. After the shaping and second proving the moment of truth had arrived. He carefully scored along the loaves, cursing his nervousness- any jagged cut was sure to be disguised in the oven, it didn’t matter what they looked like now. Twenty five minutes later he pulled the tray from the oven, fragrant steam pouring out into his face and clouding the air.

He looked his work over as it cooled. Five golden brown baguettes, crusts glossy and lightly dusted with flour, three uniform leaf shaped scores on each. They looked beautiful, but Stuart couldn’t help but linger over each looking for possible imperfections. Sure they looked nice, but there was no telling if they were good until they were cut into.

He was about to give into the temptation and slice into one himself to see if they had come out correctly when Murdoc walked into the kitchen, coming to rest across the counter from 2D and looking the bread over. 

Stuart looked up at him, waiting for him to speak and anticipating the critique to come, feeling as if he was back at school.

“So you know what baguettes should look like.” He remarked bluntly. Stuart didn’t know what, if anything to say. The atmosphere was too suffocatingly tense to speak, he just gave a nod, keeping his face blank. The chef studied his expression for a moment before choosing one of the loaves.

Murdoc inspected the bread, rotating the bread slowly like it was a porcelain vase and he was searching it’s surface for cracks. He held it to his ear and gently squeezed it, listening to the sound of crackling crust. He didn’t spare a glance at Stuart as he shrugged to himself, plopped it on the table and cut it in half, peering at the cross section to see the air bubbles within. He then cut a slice and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully for a moment before placing the slice back onto the counter top.

He turned to face Stuart, brushing the flour off of his hands before nodding. “You start Tuesday, bright and early. Place’ll be empty, except me, so you’ll have space to work. There’ll be a prep list on the freezer. Text Russ if you have any questions”

2D let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and nodded. Before he could ask any questions, or even tell him that he didn’t have Russel’s number, Murdoc had turned and left the kitchen without comment. He stood there bewildered, wondering why the hell he was so relieved to have gotten a job he didn’t want in the first place.

**Author's Note:**

> It's taken me months to work on this but I hope to keep a consistent update schedule! I just started art school so no promises though. Please Please Please comment your thoughts/feelings/critiques I love talking with people!
> 
> P.S. Shout out to supposed2bfunny for being a great friend and encouraging me through this and being there for me to bounce ideas off of/rant au shit at. You're an angel <3


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